I found out for the first time last night that my mother’s death was not just bad luck. After the lawsuit, it finally came out that the nurse who was administering her pain medication after surgery gave her 10 times the normal dose for someone her size. They admitted that after the lethal dose had been given, there was no chance of Mom surviving. My mother didn’t die of organ failure like they'd told us. She died of an overdose.
What I’d like to know is why the big charade? Why keep us on torturous pins and needles for 7 days, continuously giving us tiny shimmers of hope that maybe this or that treatment or surgery would bring her out of it and back to us? Why did they draw out our suffering when they knew they’d already killed her?
They were probably hoping for a miracle too.
I’m angry. The worst part of all of this is that it’s brought back all of the “what if’s.” I thought I was through playing out the “what if” scenarios in my head, but this makes them fresher than ever.
It was all a terrible mistake---an accident, yes, I know, I KNOW! But one tired woman’s eyes working the night shift happened to misread a decimal point—-and now all of us left here have to go on living, knowing that it was all a mistake.
It’s not fair.
